


Diversions

by singitagain



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Teasing, lavish rimjobs, sasswald at his finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singitagain/pseuds/singitagain
Summary: "May I?" Ed asks, clearing his throat. "I thought you might appreciate the company. And the chance to unwind."Oswald rears back his head like he's been slapped, his mouth opening and hanging open for a while until the offer's sunk in. Then he finally lets out a scoff of a laugh. "...You, friend, are out of your mind." His eyebrows go up. "You do know that, right?"(One-shot Nygmobblepot. I'm new to this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)





	

It's been a long day. 

Ed can tell from Oswald's heavy slouch and the way he drags his foot and steps out of his way, letting the mayor wolf down some dinner Olga's prepared and laze in the bath with his scented salts until the pads of his fingers and toes prune up. Like many things, approaching Oswald at the right time and fostering the right mood is everything. So it's not until Oswald's wrapped up in his favourite robe - one of Elijah's, with the intricate gold patterning - and in bed with a book, his foot raised on a throw pillow, that Ed clasps his hands and sits primly beside him, proposing something kinder on his stomach than wine and aspirin to relieve chronic pain.

With his compression sock and knee brace off, Ed can see that Oswald's right leg is swollen from the knee down, skin shiny and taut over the twisting shapes of bone underneath. Oswald has never offered an explanation and he's never pushed for one. It's easy enough to guess.

"May I?" Ed asks, clearing his throat. "I thought you might appreciate the company. And the chance to unwind."

Oswald rears back his head like he's been slapped, his mouth opening and hanging open for a while until the offer's sunk in. Then he finally lets out a scoff of a laugh. "...You, friend, are out of your mind." His eyebrows go up. "You do know that, right?"

Ed smiles wryly, watching the slow flex of muscles in Oswald's throat, the flush darkening his freckles and spreading to the tips of his ears, and there's a long moment where they just take measure of each other, breathing. The fire sputters at the hearth, throwing shadows over the walls.

"So were you last time, if I recall." Ed points out, quietly pleased when Oswald's smile folds in on itself. "So, is that a yes?" 

Ed's changed so much in so little time since gaining his freedom, his angles and edges ever sharpening. But Oswald can still see the gawky eagerness on his face that he had, so long ago, when he woke in bed to Ed hovering over him and he saw that Cheshire cat grin through the fog of pain and nausea. There's so much he doesn't understand about this man he's chosen for his Chief of Staff. But Oswald's even less sure of what it says about himself when he sets his book aside for good, his cock already aching dully. Of course it is.

He juts his jaw, sighing through his nose.

"Fine," He says, finally, and Ed knows it's as close to a 'yes' he'll get out of Oswald Cobblepot tonight. 

The theatrics change nothing; he still gets to tuck a pillow under Oswald and prop up his hips. Oswald parts his legs without a fuss, goosebumps sweeping up his spine in a tingling rush he feels to the roots of his hair. He glances back expectantly, catching Ed in the middle of sliding off his glasses. "Hello? The lights?"

It strikes Ed as a pointless demand when they've already seen each other naked. But he obeys, neatly folding his glasses and placing them over the night table before stretching to switch off the lamp. Darkness falls around them, warm and velvety.

Oswald shifts, settles. Ed leans over him.

He's not interested in power; not in the way Oswald is, at least. But he can't ignore the dark flutter low in his gut when he sweeps Oswald's robe aside and presses kisses soft down the knobs of his spine, taking his time. Every line in Oswald's body is already quivery-tight by the time Ed smooths his hands over the curve of his ass and spreads him open, brushing a thumb over puckered skin. He swirls it lazily, thoughtful.

"Just lovely," Ed says.

Muscles cramp in Oswald's belly and he reddens, jaw clenched as his pulse sharpens between his legs. "I do hate to interrupt, but would you mind getting on with it, please?"

The 'please' is a pleasant surprise even if it's dripping in sarcasm. 

"Patience, Oswald." Ed grips him solidly. "Teasing is pleasing."

Oswald can only wonder what's running through Ed's mind, what dreams he enjoys in that breathless stretch of silence before the hot press of his mouth is there, jacking adrenaline into him. He gasps and fists the sheets, eyes fluttering shut as the world falls away. It's just as crazy as it was the first time - so lavish, deliciously vile. A giddy laugh bubbles up in his throat - barely bitten back- as he melts into bed, struggling to wrap his head around what it means to be wanted this much.

"I find the journey as interesting as the destination," Ed rasps against his skin. "The anticipation, the slow build to an inevitable, calculated climax."

Oswald's breath thickens, his head in his arms. He doesn't know what Ed wants him to say and can't begin to care while he throbs miserably, greedy for more.

Pausing, Ed cants his head. "Did you know the anus has the highest concentration of nerve endings of any part of the body?" He taps Oswald with a finger, amused when he flinches. "Fascinating."

"Ed --" There's a threat edging Oswald's voice - but one that's just as powerless as he is when Ed smirks and sinks another kiss between his legs, slow and focused. A gentle reminder of how little money and power and political clout mean while lying ass-up, falling apart in Ed's hands faster than he'd like. 

There're worse ways to be helpless; it's just hard for Oswald to think of them while Ed's tongue swirls and snags his hole, a sly, feathering wetness that keeps him on edge, keeps him wanting. It's fucking unfair. He mewls uselessly, straining against Ed. The hands bracing his hips hold him steady, keep him just where Ed wants him to be and just the way Ed wants him to be, trembling and kitten-weak, begging for him. 

Ed almost pities him, thumbing his slick, needy hole.

"I think you can do better than that." He husks, the grit in his voice reaching deep inside Oswald and gripping him by the balls.

It's all the warning Oswald gets before Ed's tongue presses tight against him, seeking. What little fight left in him is gone when he softens into him and Ed slides in hot, opening him like a gift. Oswald chokes out a cry, his whole body a hiving mass of nerves as pleasure lights up his brain. He white-knuckles the sheets, legs turning to jelly as one gut-stab after another drags the air from his lungs.

"Fuck--" He huffs through his teeth, squirming in Ed's grip as a crazy, animal feeling possesses him. He doesn't care anymore, arching his back and angling his ass into every sloppy kiss like it's the way it's always been. Ed just laughs and spoils him rotten. 

He's a wreck, a boneless, quivering thing, when Ed finally pulls away - and still seethingly restless. Ed sympathizes. He watches Oswald as he rolls onto his side. As he slips a hand into his robe, too dazed to mind the weight of Ed's gaze on him. That's a first.

"I can help you with that," Ed offers, sitting up.

Oswald looks up at him with drugged, heavy-lidded eyes and squints a moment, trying hopelessly to figure him out. Ed just smiles his patient smile. The matter is settled.

Soon Ed's reaching into the night table drawer, rattling around pill containers for the lube. Then he slicks a long finger and eases in, pushing a soft, strangled noise out of him. Oswald tightens around him, still unused to complete surrender. Something they'd have to work on. But with enough coaxing he takes Ed to his middle-knuckle, whining in his throat as it works in and out. 

Ed sinks his teeth into his lip, his expression set, deeply focused, when he adds a second one. He starts slow and shallow, feeling muscles pull at his fingers. Then gently corkscrews his wrist with every push, crooking his fingers. It takes a moment before he finds what he's looking for, what they're both looking for. But when he brushes the right cluster of nerves - that sweet spot - , Oswald groans from the bottom of his lungs and remembers why any of this was worth the sting. It's mindlessly good, guilty-good. He goes blind, sobbing for air as every thrust of Ed's fingers send shockwaves ripping through his belly, the pleasure so raw he feels like he has to piss. Come puddles under him as he shudders, soaking the pillow.

It'd have been a good time to slide some papers and a pen under Oswald's nose and have him reconsider signing off on a few proposals, Ed thinks. Though while he watches Oswald twitch in the aftershock, his face slack, unguarded, it's a more tempting idea to unzip and slick himself and take what's left of Oswald. They've never been that ambitious; he hasn't offered and Oswald's never asked. Maybe they'd never work up to it. He's come to accept that. 

But it's the Ed inside him, that hungry, fearless devil, who's forever unsated. Who sees that slippery-wet hole as invitation to stake his claim and fuck Oswald wide open. The good people of Gotham wouldn't even notice a difference in their Mayor's limp, a voice teases in the back of his mind. But Oswald would know it, _feel_ it with every step he took. Their own little secret.

Ed snaps to attention when Oswald sits up too, blinking dopily at him. His robe hangs loose around his shoulders. Ed's gaze slides down his bare throat to the bird-like, delicate sharpness of his collarbones. 

A log pops in the fire.

"Better?" Ed asks, cheerily.

"Much." Oswald admits. He pulls his robe a little better over his lap. "Thank you, friend."

The honesty catches Ed off-guard and Ed waits for a 'but', for something to take from the smug satisfaction swelling in his chest. But nothing comes. "Anything for you, Oswald."

The bed creaks as Ed eases his weight off to stand. Oswald blinks, sobering. He suddenly looks like a lost kid.

"Where are you going?"

"Just tending to unfinished business." 

It takes Oswald a moment too long to notice the bulge straining at the fly of Ed's dress pants.

"Ah. Yes." His gaze flickers back to Ed's face, unsure. "Well, if you prefer..."

Ed straightens expectantly, arms tense at his sides.

'...you're welcome to stay." Oswald continues, missing the simpler pleasures of lying close to Ed and finding comfort in the heat of their bodies, the steady thrum of Ed's heartbeat against his. "You had might as well, seeing as you're already well on your way to finishing up." He considers the throw pillow he'd lain on and the idea of dumping it in the trash before Olga finds it in the morning. Silk and come stains don't pair well. It bothers him less than it should.

A giddy grin spreads across Ed's face. 

"I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
